


stresses & picnics

by pen_light



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Sam Winchester, Cas is stressed, Gen, M/M, Picnics, Stressed Castiel, V CUTE, Worried Sam Winchester, and sam knows, literally a short scene lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 12:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16516481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen_light/pseuds/pen_light
Summary: Castiel is stressed. Sam Winchester is well aware, always one to catch on quickly whenever his brother and best friend begin to get even the slightest bit wound up. Castiel is stressed, and Sam's got a plan to help.alt. there's nothing a picnic can't solve





	stresses & picnics

**Author's Note:**

> hello!
> 
> this is my long overdue entry for the sastiel anniversary. not my most detailed work, but it's still p cute 
> 
> (this is v rushed and not as edited as normal, but lol oh well)

 

Sam Winchester knew when Castiel was stressed. (Of course, Castiel was almost always stressed. The Winchester definition of “stressed” wasn’t as aligned with the convention as either of them would like to admit). 

 

When in a tense state, the angel tended to wire himself even more, finding every and any chance to exit any form of comfort and relaxation. He’d make sure he was always working, finding more work to do in the things he was already pouring all his energy into as well. (He picked that up from Dean, Sam reasoned.)

 

Sam was more likely to catch trends, himself being more accustomed to observing and catching the signs before a major meltdown occurred. (To be frank, it wasn’t necessarily that big of a deal. It was just easier for the younger. All he had to do was sit back and watch while Castiel and Dean danced around each other, avoiding their own issues and dealing with everyone else’s). 

 

At the moment, Castiel was strung. His movements were too tight, his words too tense, and his actions too frazzled. The cause? The angels up in heaven were proving to be problematic yet again, asking for Castiel for his help. For once, Castiel was unwilling to pay a visit. (And it was tearing the poor angel apart. Sam could see it.)

 

“It’s a circle,” Castiel told him one night as the two were working on dishes. “Them coming to me, tricking me, harming me, and then, because of it, hurting you and Dean.” 

 

Sam hummed in agreement, ignoring the last addition. 

 

“I just can’t see them hurt you or Dean again,” Castiel continued. (It seemed like he was in a talkative mood. Sam didn’t mind.) “Even if the survival of angels is on the line.” 

 

Sam turned off the faucet. He turned to Castiel, careful with what he was about to say next. “Cas, tell me you’re just not going because of Dean and I.”

 

Castiel took the last dish and wiped the incredibly damp towel across it. “And if I am?” 

 

Sam sighed, taking the towel after Castiel was done. “Then I’d tell you that you better insert some self preserving concerns in there too. You’ve gotta stop going up because they always hurt you, first. Then, worry about Dean and me.” 

 

Castiel didn’t say anything at first. Sam took the moment of silence to ring out the wet towel and line it on the rack. He turned then, sighing at the blank, yet distraught expression on the angel’s face. 

 

“Cas?” The human stepped forward, gentle hands gripping at his friend’s shoulders.

 

“Yes.” It wasn’t an interrogative as Sam was expecting. 

 

“Yes?” Sam mirrored, searching Castiel’s eyes. 

 

The angel’s focus realigned with Sam. “Okay,” The celestial cleared his throat. (Was his throat closed up, Sam wondered) “Okay.” 

 

Whatever the vague replies were, they would have to do. Sam grinned, patting the angel on his shoulder and ushering him out of the kitchen and into the clearing, turning off the lights on the way out. 

 

“It’s late and we need rest,” Sam started, leading the way now in the front, his strides headed for the hallway of bedrooms. The hunter had completely expected for Castiel to follow him. 

 

But Castiel remained put. “I don’t need sleep.” 

 

Sam had to actually roll his eyes at the moment. “I am aware, Cas,” he stilled and turned, making a hand gesture hastily to bring Castiel over. “But you need to refresh either way. Just relax for this one night. We’ll get to work in the morning.” 

 

The angel glanced down at Sam’s frantic hands. Seeing that the hunter wasn’t going to give up, he groaned, the sass seeping through the slouching of his shoulders. (Sam had to stop himself from laughing at his friend’s overdramatic nature.)

 

Sam stepped back into the wall, allowing for Castiel to walk in front of him and directly into his own room. 

 

“Good night!” Sam called out. And Castiel just grunted in return. 

 

Sam chuckled with a shake of his head. Then, he went to bed, an idea brewing lightly in the back of his head. 

 

~

 

“Did Dean really have to work on Baby that badly?” Castiel questioned, his gaze trained on the crop driving by. “She looked fine yesterday.”

 

Sam looked over with a brief look of confusion. It barely lasted as the hunter had to quickly cover up and follow through with his lie. “Yeah. Something about seeing some warnings on the dashboard. You know how Dean is.” 

 

Castiel hummed, eyes closing. 

 

Sam slowed the beige pimp mobile and took a turn into the fields. Nervously, he glanced at Castiel, pleased to see the angel was still in a meditative state (Whatever that meant for an angel, Sam couldn’t figure out). 

 

A few more minutes on soft, bumpy dirt, Sam slowed the car to a stop and turned off the engine. “Alright, Cas,” he said, opening the door. “We’re here.” 

 

The angel opened his blue eyes, squinting immediately at the strange grounds—tall blades of yellowing grass with orange and scarlet leaves falling from a big, wide tree were. “Where are the bodies?” 

 

From behind the car and in the trunk, Sam actually visible grimaced, hesitating to pick up the make shift picnic kit he had created. _Bodies and a picnic_ , Sam thought with a shudder. _Ew._ “Cas, dude. First of all, they’re normally behind the yellow ‘Caution’ tape.” He strolled to the front and opened the passenger door for the angel. “And second, we’re taking a detour to eat and relax.” 

 

“I don’t quite understand,” Castiel moved out of the car, nonetheless. 

 

Sam waggled the woven picnic basket in his hands. “When was the last time we went on a date?” 

 

Castiel frowned, raising his hands to check Sam’s temperature. “You’re not warm,” he muttered. And then, more firmly, “Sam, we don’t date,” he stated.

 

“Well, welcome to this picnic date, then,” Sam exclaimed. He set down the box and reached for the blanket, instantly spreading it out on the grass. “We’ve got alcohol, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, good music, and nothing but nature and the skies. All to help wash our worries away so we can get some actual rest.” 

 

The angel ever so carefully sat down on the picnic. “Is there actually a hunt?” 

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Cas. There is a hunt. Just in a few hours.” He rummaged in the box. “Here, take a beer.” 

 

The angel shrugged. “I’ll take them all.” Sam snickered. 

 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” 

 

And Castiel smiled, the bottle placed ever so slightly on his lips. He chuckled before tipping his head back and taking in a big swig. His gaze lingered at the sky, possibly admiring the blues and the whites. 

 

Sam, mouth full of PB&J, watched as the angel finished the bottle quickly and took to laying down on his back. There was a large exhale and an instant change in demeanor from tension to relaxation. (Goal accomplished.) 

 

Sam allowed himself to beam for Castiel was smiling. Full on, actually smiling. It was a sight to behold—the angel rarely ever let such pure happiness show on his face. The lines on his face were gone, the shadows that danced around his features were brightened. As the wind blew more and more, the angel shone more and more, sinking into the nature, enjoying every minute and second of it. 

 

“I was wrong, Sam Winchester,” Castiel said out loud after a long time (Just an hour or two). The said hunter was already half asleep, having had joined the angel in laying down on the blanket (Half of his body was actually on the dirt). “We do date. And this is a lovely, overdue date.” 

 

Sam laughed wholeheartedly. 

 

And Castiel did too. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(“Nothing a good ol’ picnic can’t solve.” Sam remembered Dean telling tell this to him back when they were kids, in a time where picnics were practical and more often, enjoyable. Sam guessed he was wrong to have put off the alternative for so long. Castiel was rejuvenated, and he himself felt lighter and happier. Perhaps picnics could become a regular Team Free Will thing. Just, perhaps.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it!
> 
> visit me on tumblr/twitter @uselessspork


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